2014

My eyes shot open, heart hammering in my chest.

Sweat pooled at my temples, running down the back of my neck. I thrust my arms outward, reaching—grasping—for something solid, something real. But my immediate surroundings were as tangible as smoke.

She was gone.

My vision blurred, refusing to focus. My pulse quickened.

No.

Not again.

I can't survive another one.

I gasped for air, but the space around me was thick, suffocating. It clung to my skin like tar, heavy and inescapable. An invisible force pressed down on my chest, squeezing the breath from my lungs.

I knew where I had returned.

Never free.

Always their pawn.

солдат. [soldier]

солдат.

My entire body convulsed at the sound—pounding metal, clanging doors, the rattle of gunfire that vibrated through my bones. The air was thick with it, like I was standing in the middle of a war zone. The echoes of battles I had fought, lost, and survived. Too many. Always too many.

солдат.

солдат.

Assignment—

солдат.

солдат.

The chaos around me compressed into a single, piercing sound—a high-pitched whine that made my teeth ache. I rubbed at my ears, expecting to find blood. The frequency was nearly unbearable, suffocating the space. And yet, through the drone, I saw them. A faceless figure in a white lab coat. Another in a uniform.

Faceless, but I knew them.

солдат.

My head jerked, my gaze falling to the floor, unable to meet their eyes—if they had any. My teeth ground together, the words crawling up from a place I couldn't control.

"Я готов отвечить [ready to comply]."

ваша следующая цель [your next target].

A photograph was shoved into my face. The world around me spun, the edges fraying into black. The image was hazy, distorted—my vision doubled, then blurred. I could barely make it out, but I saw enough. A family. Their faces were smudges of nothing, except for the children's eyes. Their eyes pierced through the fog.

"тот человек [the man]?" The words left my mouth like a breath, barely audible, almost a whisper. But I wasn't sure if it was my voice.

ребенок [the children].

The hollow blackness in my chest pulsed. My heartbeat grew louder, rising over the suffocating silence. It became the only sound I could hear.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words that came out weren't mine.

"Bullet through the back of the skull."

Sweat trickled down my temple, slow and deliberate.

"Knife to the jugular. Slice through the throat."

I stumbled, my foot catching on something solid—something real I knew wasn't there a moment ago. The surface hit my back, jarring me.

"Clench throat until lifeless."

My lips were moving. I felt the muscles strain and pull. But I wasn't the one speaking.

I screamed—or tried to. But nothing came out. The voice inside me took over, commanding, relentless.

"Chokehold. Snap neck."

The faceless figures stepped closer, thrusting the photo in front of me again, their movements serpentine. The adults in the picture were gone. Only the children's faces remained.

"Crush skull with foot."

The children's faces twisted, contorting with fear and grief. But then—horrifically—they changed. The features stretched and warped until the children were no longer human. Their eyes bulged, drooling blood from their mouths. They crawled out of the photo, chittering, limbs flailing in jagged, jerky movements. Their spastic bodies slithered across the floor toward me, bloodied drool smearing the black space as they moved.

The figures around me closed in, thrusting blank photos into my hands. But I couldn't see them—only felt the coldness of paper.

Then I saw her.

The face of the lab coat. It sharpened, came into focus, clear as day.

"Jaige?"

Her eyes—once warm, once human—darkened to a hollow, bottomless black. She slithered toward me, moving just like the creatures, her hand shoving the photograph toward me. A mechanical, inhuman sound chirred from her throat.

ребенок. [the children].

"No, no-I can't-I don't kill children, Jaige." My voice was thin, fragile, breaking under the weight of the nightmare. I tried to move, to pull away from her, but the Soldier's metal monstrosity of an arm tightened his grip. My body jerked back, but my head was yanked forward, forced to meet her hollow gaze.

Jaige—or what was left of her—hissed, her breath reeking of something metallic and decayed.

ты монстр [you are a monster].

"No!" My hands slapped over my ears, trying to block out the sound, but it bled through. Everywhere. Inside my head.

солдат.

монстр.

солдат.

"Jaige, you—"

монстр.

солдат.

солдат.

"I'm not—"

монстр.

монстр.

монстр.

"I'm not a monster!"